How to ask a Russian assassin on a date?
by shadowsontherun
Summary: Clint and Natasha have never done things the average way because frankly they were not average people. They are SHIELD agents. Assassins. Badass covert spies. They kill because it's the only skill they knew - but they search for redemption because they have the burning desire to atone for their regrets. So in the middle all this madness - how does one ask an assassin on a date?


**How to ask a Russian assassin on a date?**

**A/N: This is no longer going to happen in I dare you because I choose the story to go a different route then I planned….but**** you can read this as the ALTERNATE aftermath of their mission in Japan. For everyone else reading this who have not read I dare you – it is pure shameless fluff. You don't NEED to read the 80 chapters of character development I did for them to get to this point in their partnership – but I don't know if the feels will be the same if you don't know the history. Let me know what you think.  
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**Chapter 1 **

Natasha stared at the door in front of her for a long moment. It was 24 hours after they got back from one of the worst missions of both their careers and Clint had hauled himself up in his room the second they walked into their apartment. Natasha understood what he was feeling was guilt – guilt that he couldn't save any of the little girls that they had found trapped in an underground trafficking base in Japan. Guilt that he couldn't prevent any of their deaths from happening because they were trapped and he didn't have enough time. Guilt that the only person he was able to get out of there alive was _her_.

Natasha took a deep breath and knocked.

No respond.

She didn't really expect one.

Natasha huffed and just turned the door knob and let herself into his dark room and stared at the lump on the bed that sadly belonged to Clint Barton – the man who was supposed to be one of the best agents at SHIELD.

"Hey Barton I'm going for a walk – don't send the entire SHIELD search party after me when you wake up and find I'm not here okay?" she said trying to keep the hesitancy out of her voice. The Black Widow was never hesitant. _Never_.

But Natasha Romanoff around a seriously depressed Clint Barton just might be.

"Mm…k," she heard the muffled half dead response come from underneath the piles of pillows – or at least that was what she _thought_ he said. Natasha shifted uncomfortably as she perched herself at the edge of his bed.

"Do you... want anything?" she asked cautiously. She really didn't know how to do this domestic stuff. Good thing he barely qualified as domestic himself. A deep groan emitted from beneath the monster pile of white.

"…_Tasha_…," he muttered as he shoved his head deeper under the mountain of fluff. He was tired and sleep deprived from the nightmares she knew they both had after Japan so she understood his grumpiness – it didn't mean she would sit around and baby him though. He wasn't the only one who wasn't sleeping anymore. Natasha scoffed and promptly stood up.

"Fine – lie around in bed all day if you want – but there is no way in hell I'm staying cooped up in here with you half dead to the world," she snapped before she spun on her heel and stalked towards the door.

"…finally _silence_…," she heard him grumbled from behind her. Natasha froze and shot him a disbelieving look over her shoulder. He was such as _ass! _

She steeled her eyes and stared daggers into his door with her back to him.

"You know, eventually you are going to have to start acting like the real agent you're supposed to be Barton. You might have just had one of the most fucked up missions of your career – but you're not the only one whose ledger just got 10 times redder. You're not the only one who is feeling like _shit_ Barton," she said darkly. She waited for 10 seconds to hear what he would say.

All she got was silence. Natasha shook her head in disgust.

"_Bastard_!" she muttered to herself in Russian as she stormed out of his room. She picked up her keys off the kitchen table and stalked out of their apartment – she wasn't the idle inactive type. She didn't cope the same way he did. When she needed to step away from the nightmare she called her life she had to keep herself moving and moving and moving - until she can no longer walk.

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3 hours later Natasha found herself loitering in a second hand book store only a few streets away from their crap apartment. She never has time to explore their rundown side of town so she might as well do it now while her stupid jerk of a roommate was confining himself to the clutches of his bed.

Why does he do that to himself? Why does he let something they had no control over eat at him like this? He's going to kill himself at this rate – and she worked so damn hard to keep his ass alive too!

"Bishop was right. You _are_ a bleeding heart," she muttered shaking her head as she picked a book off the shelf. It was one of those childish Harry Potter books she's seen him reading on base a few times. What the hell was his obsession with magic? There was no such thing as magic. She only believes in things she can see – and unless some crack head with a magical spear came to earth and started casting spells on random people she would continue to live in reality thank you very much.

Never say that Natasha Romanoff can't adjust her beliefs when the situation calls for it.

"Hey gorgeous – so what are you doing for dinner tonight?" an annoying thick southern accented voice asked from behind her. She tensed. Could she never catch a damn break?

Natasha took a deep breath and she placed her book back on the shelf. She really hated when cocky American men tried to hit on her. She really didn't need any of this bullshit right now. She didn't need any more assholes in her life – one was more than enough – and he didn't even want to see the light of day at the moment. She didn't want to deal with _any_ stupid men right now.

"You know it's men like you who give your country a bad...," she started to go into sharp lecture mode and chew out the stupid boy who thinks he can charm his way into her pants when she spun around and came face to face with familiar amused warm blues eyes. She froze as she got hit with the strikingly different man standing in front of her then the piss poor excuse for a potato she left back in their apartment. He was now clean shaved, right out of the shower wet hair, wearing a worn old pair of dark blue jeans and a loose black shirt rolled up to his elbows. His hair was messy like it usually was and he was wearing a relaxed expression on his face. He looked…healthy. Natasha continued to stare at him as he tilted his head to the side in curiosity. What was he doing?

"A bad what? I'm just an average guy who saw a pretty girl holding his favorite book and thought he should try his luck in asking her to dinner," he said giving her a charming smile. Natasha blinked in confusion before she _finally_ understood – he wasn't Clint Barton right now. She promptly gave him a blank look.

"Really...?" she said dryly. He continued to smile innocently at her and she wondered how long he would continue his little charade. He didn't play roles very often. She had a feeling she knew why he was doing it right now.

"Maybe that wasn't the best introduction," he said with a convincing wince as he rubbed the back of his head. She was impressed – 3 hours ago he looked like hell warmed over. He cleaned up fast. He suddenly had a determined look on his face. "Why don't we start over? Hi my name is Clint Barton," he said extending out his hand in a friendly gesture she would never accept from a random stranger – but he wasn't exactly a stranger and she was feeling far too comfortable with the sudden shift in his emotions to risk breaking character just yet.

"Natalie Rushman," she said calmly accepting his firm handshake. His easy smile remained – but there was a slight sadness to it. He tried not to let her red hair turn blond in his eyes.

"You don't look a Natalie," he said quietly tilting his head to the side. Natasha raised one lone red eyebrow.

"How would you Mr. Barton? We just met remember?" she said casually. Clint furrowed his brow and pretended to study her expression. Natasha leaned back against the bookshelf behind her and started to relax a little as they continued to play the two strangers meeting in a dinky little book store. It was nice to know she didn't have to off a target at the end of her performance. Clint suddenly got an _ah ha_ face and she wondered what he would say.

"I think you look like an Amanda," he said sounding very proud of himself. Natasha gave him a _where-the-heck-did-that-come-from?_ stare.

"_Amanda_? Do you not see the red hair?" she asked incredulously pointing to her locks of fire. He suddenly laughed – it was real. Natasha realized he wasn't actually acting like a totally different person, it was more like he was pretending certain parts of him didn't exist. Maybe this was the type of person he thought he would be if he wasn't Clint Barton secret covert agent of SHIELD with enough baggage to fill all the commercial planes in the New York international airport.

"Well I thought you were Russian right off the bat – but I try not to stereotype," he said with a shrug. Natasha rolled her eyes. Smooth. Real smooth Barton.

"Wanna try again Mr. Liberal mind?" she asked dryly. Clint grinned at her and for a moment she let herself enjoy the warm mirth in his eyes – it was painfully obvious he was acting but she knew that sometimes when you act long enough you start to believe the lines and emotions are real. She does it herself sometimes. She paused when he suddenly reached out and curled a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. She felt her breath catch in her throat when his eyes soften.

"How about Natasha?" he asked softly. Natasha had to force herself to stay in character and didn't let anything except light amusement show on her face. She kind of wanted to break character now. She wanted to know how he was doing under the mask.

"Hmm. Maybe. I think I might like Natasha," she said pretending to think about it. She didn't actually know why she chose that name nearly a year ago - she still didn't. But she liked it. Especially when he said it like that – like she actually meant something to him.

"It's a pretty name," he said warmly as he tugged on another strand of her hair. Natasha chuckled. Is this how normal people talked?

"Too much Cheese mister," she teased –she paused for just a second as a dark thought crossed her mind - god he was making her _soft_. No one makes the Black Widow soft. She was about to tell him to cut the crap when he suddenly took the end of her hair and brushed it against her nose – nearly causing her to sneeze. She suddenly scowled at him - he was distracting her serious thoughts! It was a matter of her dignity!

"Doesn't mean it's not true," he said seriously. Natasha sighed and gave him a wary look.

"You're a _strange_ man Clint Barton," she said warily. He grinned – she's said that before.

"Strange is interesting," he said with a shrug. She raised an eyebrow.

"Really?" she asked waiting to see what he would say next. He opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, furrowed his brow for a second – before he donned a determined expression and decided to soldier through whatever it was he wanted to say. If this was anyone else Natasha would be extremely alarmed – his acting skill was almost _scary_ sometimes.

"So Natasha – want to go on that date with me now?" he asked flashing her a boyish grin. She pretended to consider it.

"Hmm what if I say no? I don't know you after all - for all I know you could be a deadly criminally insane assassin who had a thing for pretty redheads," she said airily without giving anything away on her face.

_Now wouldn't that be something?_

Clint laughed out loud like she just made a hilarious joke most average people could make and be rather certain it wasn't supposed to be taken seriously. Too bad they weren't average people.

Natasha couldn't stop a small fond smile from pulling at the edge of her lips. Okay so maybe this was kind of fun. Clint suddenly got a hold on his infectious laughter and spread his arms out and gave her an open smile in all his civilian glory. Civilian her _ass_.

"Do I look like an assassin to you? Besides we're in a tiny book store in the middle of the cheapest side of town. I highly doubt dangerous assassins like to frequent boring places like these. Don't they have more exciting places to be running through all over the world? Crazy assassinations to be planning all day, every day?" he said playfully – but she could see a shadow of something dark flash across his eyes.

"Isn't that what everyone thinks they do?" she said warily glancing away. All day, every day? That would seriously kill them – it nearly killed her when her life was exactly like that before he recruited her. Clint suddenly shrugged.

"I don't know – maybe we should ask one. But just to make matters worse last week this kid told me I looked like _plumber_!" he said with a playful scowl. She snorted – she wondered if that one was actually true.

"Yeah that and you're too short to be deadly," she said dryly racking her eyes up and down his loose baggy clothes that currently hid all the well-developed muscle she knew he maintained from his strenuous work. Shorter than average he may be but weak he was definitely _not_. Clint paused for a brief moment and she wondered if he would break character now.

"Maybe - but height has very little to do with skill," he said flashing her a sharp smile that would have left any other girl wondering what exactly he was hiding, but it just amused Natasha to no end. It was fun – but she wanted her partner back.

"Well it was nice chatting with a friendly face – but I have things to do, people to see, depressed assholes to whip into shape – the usual stuff," she said casually pushing herself away from the book shelf and heading toward the exit. She brushed passed his stiff form and had already anticipated his response. She only got 3 feet before she felt strong archer arms wrap around her waist and let herself get dragged back into the isle of books and pressed back against a warm chest.

"This is part where you finally cave and let Mr. Handsome take you on a romantic date isn't it?" he whispered in her ear. Natasha rolled her eyes. _Finally_ broke character.

"But maybe I don't want to go on a date with Clint Barton the average everyday American charmer," she said in amusement. Clint slowly spun her around in his arms and stared at her for a long moment. She waited patiently for him to finally catch on. He wasn't the only one who liked exactly what he saw every day of the week. She didn't break personal rules to be with some average every day Joe – she broke them to be with _Hawkeye_. His eyes warmed in understanding. She was glad she didn't have to spell it out for him – she didn't even think she _could_.

"Then who do you want to go on a date with?" he asked quietly leaning into her and bracing his arms on either side of her face on the shelf behind her. Natasha started to feel just slightly lightheaded from his proximity.

"Someone else," she said trying to mask the breathless edge in her voice. Clint paused.

"Should I be jealous?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. Natasha gave him a mysterious smile – the one that always drove him up a wall right from the start.

"Very jealous," she said nodding seriously. Clint scoffed and firmly trapped her body against the book shelf behind her.

"Well now I _am_ jealous. Maybe I could change your mind?" he asked suggestively. She chuckled.

"Your competition is tough - he's rather sexy," she said with a half shrug.

Clint's eyebrows instantly shot up to his hairline. He did not expect her to ever say that. Her face remained deceptively neutral though.

"Well I'm probably handsomer," he said arrogantly. Natasha smiled.

"He has a really sick bow," she said with an amused glint in her eyes. He scoffed – liar. Last time she said she thought his bow was stupid.

"I'm an amazing kisser – or so I've been told," he said waging his eyebrows at her. Natasha snorted. She said no such thing – even if they both knew it was true. She never complained about his performance before.

"He kicks criminal ass," she said casually. He fake gagged.

"What is he? A damn cop?" he said twisting his face into a sour expression. Natasha sighed and slowly wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down until his face was eye level with hers – he came willingly. She stared at him for a long moment and saw all the self-hatred and pain and turmoil that lay hidden behind his expressive blue eyes. No – he didn't look like a typical assassin – but he bared the marks of one who was in the process of finding redemption as clear at day.

"He's a _good_ person," she said softly. He instantly let his bangs cover his eyes as he buried his face in her shoulder. She stayed silent as he took several deep breaths. He was still feeling the emotional hit from the mission.

"How can you be sure?" he whispered against her neck. She ran a hand through his soft hair.

"Because I've never seen anyone try as hard as him to undo all the wrong he's done by working himself into the ground night and day to take out one more criminal or protect one more innocent person," she said quietly. She felt him wrap his arms around her waist and hold her tighter. They stayed like that for a few minutes before she finally broke the silence.

"Ask me again," she said tugging on the back of his hair. He pulled back and gave her a confused expression. She gave him a warm look in response.

"Ask me again Clint," she whispered resting her hand against his cheek. She watched understanding fill his eyes.

"Do you want to go on a date with me Tasha?" he asked hesitantly. Natasha had to use all her considerable will power to hold back her laughter so that she didn't hurt his feelings in the process. She only felt like laughing because that was the first time anyone has ever asked her to go on a real honest to god _date_. It was pathetic – but it was kind of her life story.

"Is it going to be one of those cheesy boring dinner dates?" she asked warily. He paused.

"_No_…?" he said drawing out the last syllable in a way that told her he was rapidly rethinking his plan. She snickered.

"Good. Surprise me," she said flashing him a slight smile. Clint's eyebrows shot up instantly.

"You actually want to be surprised?" he asked suspiciously. Natasha Romanoff _hated_ surprises -with a passion. She snorted.

"You can try – doesn't mean I won't see it from a mile away though," she said with a smug look. Clint scoffed.

"I'm going to take that as a challenge," he said determinedly.

"Sure - it can be your next mission agent Barton," she said giving him a steady look. Clint's eyes sobered when she said _agent_. For a moment he wondered if she would like a Clint who wasn't tied to a shadowy organization like SHIELD. One that wouldn't always be leaving on missions, getting hurt on missions and coming back with a little bit more of his humanity recovered but a little less of his sanity that was lost each time.

"Which Clint Barton do you like best Tasha?" he asked quietly staring at her calm green eyes. He didn't care what people thought of him or his job. He didn't do his job for any else but himself – but he cared what _she_ thought. Maybe he cared a bit too much. Natasha reached up and brushed his brown bangs out of his eyes and stared back for a moment. Clint Barton as a normal American was probably sweet, charming and the type of guy who didn't come with a shit load of baggage.

Clint Barton the agent was a lot nasty things.

He was a downright asshole sometimes.

He was annoying.

He was reckless.

He made terrible jokes.

He was a bleeding hearted fool.

He was broken.

He was filled with guilt – and he always would be.

He cared too damn much.

But he was still Hawkeye - in all his imperfections and deadly skills.

Natasha took a deep breath and she had a feeling she was holding his self confidence in her hands right now. It was a scary feeling knowing you could break someone in one sentence.

"The real one," she breathed out softly. She felt him instantly relax as he fell into her and tightened his hold on her waist as he leaned his forehead against hers. She could see at the raw emotions swirling in his eyes – but the strongest emotion she saw was _relief_.

"_Thank you_," he whispered sincerely before he bent down and captured her lips into a soul shattering kiss. Natasha melted against his lips and let him pushed her back into the shelf and kiss her breath away in a little book store nobody would even bother remembering the name of. But it was where Natasha Romanoff saved Clint Barton from losing the last piece of string that was holding his world together. She pulled him back from the edge of his sanity and he would to continue to stay away as long as she was still here with him.

_As long as she was with him…_

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**A/N: So what type of date would Natasha actually enjoy? Judging from her past experience in Red Room assignments fancy romantic dinners and other cheesy stereotypical dates stuff is **_**not**_** what she wants from Clint. I have ideas (I always have ideas LOL) but what do you guys think? **

**What is an assassin date like anyway? **

**I apologize again for taking this scene out of I dare you. You'll see why when I update that scene no longer fits.  
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**But I can still write the date here if you want me to. Or I could leave this as a one shot and let you guys imagine their date. Haha. Evil.  
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**If you would like to read about the mission they went on before this scene you can read I dare you. **


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